Sentiment
by What's'SupWitChu
Summary: After John and Mary's wedding, Sherlock leaves to think as he's worried about being alone again. Mycroft tries to talk to Sherlock about what he is feeling with the help of his umbrella. No slash, just brotherly love!


_**A/N: Hello everyone! I hope that you are well and thank you so much for giving this story a look in :) My obsession with Mycroft and Sherlock brotherly love continues, and I like to see them bonding, as they hopefully do in this story. **_

_**As ever, I worry about characterisation though, so I apologise for OOCness. **_

_**No direct reference to Johnlock, but you can take some of the things said that way if you want to XD **_

_**I hope you enjoy the story!**_

_**If you have time to review, that would be marvellous :) xx**_

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**Sentiment**

The rain started to trickle down Sherlock's face as he sat on the bench overlooking the river Thames; or at least he hoped it was the rain washing down his cheeks, because it would be so unlike him if that wasn't the source of their dampness.

He had just fled the hustle and bustle of John and Mary's wedding, hoping to find solitude on the unusually quiet bank beneath the dimly lit street lamp. Sherlock didn't at all like how recent events had made him feel, he felt…well, he _felt, _that was the problem. _Caring is not an advantage,_ his brother's words echoed through his head; Sherlock felt like he was finally realising what Mycroft meant.

Would John just forget about him now he was married and had a baby on the way? John Watson was the first true friend Sherlock felt he'd ever had, and like he'd said in his speech, John was the best he could have asked for.

Sherlock was annoyed at himself for regressing a little in his mental state; the skill of is mind was all he really had if John was going to leave him behind. The inner child deep down within Sherlock was telling him it would be like when Mycroft left for University; his older brother hadn't make contact for ages and Sherlock had felt so alone. Would he be alone again now? This was the second time in his life Sherlock almost feared the notion of loneliness, because before he met John he hadn't realised how secluded he truly was.

Sherlock shook his head; that was a ridiculous thought, Mycroft didn't have emotions and so didn't appear to realise how much he'd hurt Sherlock, John however was in touch with that side of himself and constantly reminded Sherlock he was his friend and he'd be there for him; the consulting detective appreciated the reminders.

Sherlock suddenly became aware of the footsteps approaching him, each one perfectly placed. He didn't look up when the bench creaked a little beside him as someone sat down; he didn't need to.

"Come to gloat some more?" Sherlock asked rather bitterly.

"No, I just thought you could use the company" Mycroft replied, and shifted his notorious umbrella to his other hand so it was covering Sherlock too.

"And since when do you think about anyone else?" Sherlock replied, not even bothering to ask how his brother had known where he was; security cameras, he suspected.

Mycroft sighed with distain "Please, Sherlock, I'm_ trying_ to be civil with you…"

"Why, what do you have to gain?" Sherlock continued his accusations.

"Oh, nothing much" Mycroft replied nonchalantly "Just a little… _experiment_, I suppose. You like those don't you?"

"An experiment in what? To see if you're still capable of being a big brother" Sherlock mumbled as he folded his arms across his chest defensively; he hated when his brother caught him in such vulnerable situations, and he hate himself for letting them happen.

"To see if for once I can get you to _listen_" Mycroft stressed. "I told you what would happen if you became sentimental, of course things are going to change now that John is married, and now you're worried. That's what happens when you become attached to people. I warned you"

"I am not _attached"_ Sherlock said the word with an air of disgust "I don't _need _John, I just…"

"_Want_ him" Mycroft finished "You want him to stay" Sherlock sniffed indignantly and looked away, proving to Mycroft was right; not that the older Holmes needed proof.

"I wanted you to stay" Sherlock said quietly "And look how that turned out"

Mycroft frowned and got ready to bite back with his usual '_I had to'_ argument, but he knew his brother was in a more…fragile, state than usual, and although Mycroft did not have a lot of experience when it came to handling people like that, he did know how to get around his little brother. He taught Sherlock everything he knew after all.

"It was never my intention to make you feel abandoned, Sherlock" Mycroft spoke in his usual calm fashion. "But I had to focus on my studies…this is irrelevant anyway" he said stubbornly; he'd always hated talking about himself…or perhaps it was _guilt_? "This has nothing to do with me, this is about John"

"Well you left me, why wouldn't he?" Sherlock asked sulkily as he brought his feet up onto the bench and pulled is knees against his chest.

Mycroft smirked "because for reasons beyond me he actually seems to _care_ about you, Sherlock" he replied.

"And caring is not an advantage" Sherlock said almost robotically; Mycroft nodded.

"At least something I've told you has gone into that vast brain of yours" the older brother said.

"I wish it hadn't" Sherlock as he rested his chin on his knees. "I hate sentiment"

"But you are not yet strong enough stop it from happening" Mycroft jibed, but Sherlock appeared accept it. "I myself am allergic to the word and the concept" he added.

Sherlock scoffed "Oh please, you fat hypocrite" he said turning to look at his brother with narrowed eyes. "There is plenty of sentiment in your life"

Mycroft raised an eyebrow at him "Oh, state your case then" he challenged.

"Well…" Sherlock looked up "Take this bloody umbrella for example" he claimed. "I can see the handle has been recently polished, you've had three of the metal stretchers replaced and had bits of the fabric sewn four times. And why do you insist on keeping it?"

Mycroft shrugged "Perhaps I just can't be bothered to purchase a new one"

"Wrong" Sherlock said "It's because_ I_ bought you it, and it's the last thing I ever bought you, before you…" he trailed off, not wanting to think about it again.

"I kept it for your sake really, not for mine" Mycroft replied, but the way he did so was sort of rattled; Sherlock knew he'd touched a nerve, which was quite the achievement when it came to his brother. "For instance, if I hadn't had it with me right now then you would be wet through and no doubt coming down with pneumonia, although you already have a cold coming on"

"What?" Sherlock said with a confused frown but then he sneezed; _how the hell does he do that?_ Mycroft smiled to himself, pleased he appeared back on top. "So you kept the umbrella for the past twenty years in case you'd need to shelter me from the rain this one time?" Sherlock asked bluntly; that excuse was pathetic for a regular person, let alone Mycroft.

"I kept it to show that I had never really left you. To show you that I considered you enough to keep the gift you saved up to get me" Mycroft stated. "And if I cannot shelter you from the evil in this world which you so incessantly get yourself involved with, then sheltering you from the rain with this umbrella will just have to do"

"Ha! So you do care" Sherlock said triumphantly "You are_ so_ self-contradictory…."

"I never said that…" Mycroft but in.

"You don't have to" Sherlock argued "You imply it, _heavily_"

"It is social convention as my role as a big brother" Mycroft continued to protest "and I like to follow tradition…"

Sherlock scoffed again "please, don't waste your breath" he smirked, and Mycroft rolled his eyes with a sigh; he should know by now his brother could be more stubborn than he was.

"_You_ need _me_ to protect you, Sherlock…" Mycroft quantified.

"Don't turn this on me…" Sherlock interrupted but he was ignored.

"And I tried to do that by making you hide your emotions, because feelings can hurt you and they are really not worth the hassle" Mycroft replied sharply, and for the first time Sherlock started to wonder if he'd pushed a bit too far. Mycroft sounded like he spoke from experience with that last statement.

"If I didn't watch you as much as I do, give you all the help that you do, then I can assure you , you wouldn't be sat here with a pulse right now, and the umbrella…." Mycroft sighed a little deflated; a very rare notion for him and one only Sherlock could possibly make him feel. "If I can't keep you close all the time then at least I have the umbrella" he mumbled the last bit quietly. "It's the most support anything or anyone has ever given me"

Sherlock didn't know what to say for a moment. He didn't remember when he'd last seen Mycroft so, well… not like Mycroft.

"I'm sorry" Sherlock finally said. He wasn't entirely sure what he was apologising for, but Mycroft had always had that strange power over him.

"It's alright" Mycroft said truthfully. "John won't forget you, you know" he said, drawing their conversation back to its original purpose. "He doesn't strike me as the forgetting type"

"No, I suppose not" Sherlock said as he turned to look at his brother "You came back, after all"

"And I do not intend on going anywhere anytime soon" Mycroft assured him "If not purely for the purpose of annoying you"

Sherlock smirked "I might be needing the company" he admitted.

Mycroft let out a huff of air. "Sherlock, I really think it is time you start to leave attachments behind. You don't have to leave them for good, but just so long as you know you can survive without them for a while when you need to. It'll do you good" he preached.

When they were children, Sherlock had taken everything Mycroft said as the God honest truth, but now he was a lot more sceptical.

"Prove it" he requested.

"Alright, here" Mycroft said holding the umbrella handle out towards Sherlock. The younger Holmes looked almost shocked "Take it, then" Mycroft insisted with an assuring nod.

Wondering if it was some kind of trick, Sherlock slowly reached up and cautiously took the handle for himself. The smooth finish felt warm in his palm from Mycroft's touch, and he felt almost like his brother was handing his lifeline over to him.

"I shall leave you to your thoughts" Mycroft said with a small smile "And I expect it back in one piece, brother-mine, or else there shall be hell to pay" It wasn't said in his usually dark threatening manner, but it was still enough to make Sherlock want to obey him.

With that, Mycroft stood up, buried his hands in his coat pockets and started to walk off into the dark night. Sherlock almost expected to see his brother with a heavy limp without his trusty umbrella as a crutch. In fact, it was really quite bizarre; he didn't look like Mycroft at all.

After his brother left his sight, Sherlock looked up at the umbrella, twirling it around a bit. It really was a fine piece; it had cost him three months' worth of pocket money and he'd bought it for Mycroft on the older Holmes' last birthday before he went to university. Sherlock had bought it in the hope his older brother wouldn't forget about him; perhaps it had worked.

Sherlock supposed that if Mycroft could finally leave his umbrella behind and not come running right back to snatch it, then he could slowly learn to deal with the fact John wasn't going to be around nearly as much anymore. True, comparing a human to an inanimate object was not a truly accurate analogy, but the principle was still there.

Mycroft kept the umbrella because it did things for him which no person could, just like John treated Sherlock better than anyone else had and did things for him like a friend usually would. However, as Mycroft had supposedly just proved, it was okay to leave your security behind sometimes because independence was important. Sherlock had been highly independent before he'd met John, and he'd almost forgotten it.

After a few more minutes of just looking out over the calm waters of the Thames, Sherlock stood -umbrella firmly clutched in his hand - and started to head towards Baker Street.

Although the rain was pouring heavily and the wind was strong as he walked, Sherlock vowed he wouldn't let anything happen to the umbrella, and not just because his brother had threatened him, but because he knew _exactly_ how much it meant to Mycroft, even if the older Holmes himself wasn't willing to admit it.

_Sentiment _Sherlock thought with to himself with a smirk.


End file.
